return trip

a few months ago, i used to take the ferry into the city instead of the bus. it was a glorious commute, really; sailing across the bay on a clear morning just as the sun is coming up is an incomparably peaceful experience.

but, times changed, meaning “we moved” and my commute changed too, so that i just hop on a bus at the stop across the street and it drops me about two blocks from where i work now. very convenient, and we get to go over the golden gate bridge, but … it’s a bus.

back in my ferrying days, i decided to try out a little private mailing-list journal-type thing, which succeeded minimally. by that i mean i think i did some fine writing on that list, but i was acutely aware of my audience, so much so that i believe it led to my eventual disinterest. my audience was so small and so known, in that format, that they had quite an influence over what i wrote and how i wrote it. regardless, i would sit on the ferry and compose my entries and then post them when i got home.

oftentimes a familiar face would be on the ferry. i should say “a familiar pair of boots” – i most remember his huge black boots. he looked different from everyone else on the ferry, and i figured eventually i’d get up the nerve to say hullo, or something equally scintillating, and i’d fumble through the first awkward minutes and then he’d want to be my friend. or something.

i’m not really good at this part, see.

but i never did. and i hate thinking about things i really want to do and then end up not doing them. it feels like i haven’t lived whole chunks of my life. i never did and i regretted it.

skip forward a few months, to today. on my mid-morning break, i decide to troll epinions for more topics on which to opine, and i found the “marin county” category. then i found an opinion on riding the ferry.

then i found jared. hi, jared.

the boots gave it away. he mentioned spending “a good five minutes lacing up my big black boots” and later on, noted where he always sits.

the coincidences that have brought certain people into my life – and sometimes, back out – never cease to amaze and delight and confuse and startle and frustrate and amaze me all over again.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.